


Ghosting

by niconexus



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Asexual Character, College AU, Death is a past tense, Gay Characters, Inspired by Ghosting by Mother Mother, Maybe - Freeform, Modern AU, Newt is a ghost Au, Newt is from the 80’s, Other, Sammy And Lizzy, Trans Characters, angst but its okay, bi characters, he plays pranks on the others, hes also a bit of an ass, inspired by night vale and stranger things, is sonya actually 2018 Joyce Byers, its all fun and games until Newt has a panic attack, like a town is expementing on it’s civilians in the 80’s and it’s in the desert, subject A5, the town is based on my hometown, their names are not their names, thomas has a crush on the ghost in the attic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-27 15:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13883448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niconexus/pseuds/niconexus
Summary: College students rent a strangely cheap house, to live in together, all coming from the same high school, glad to stick together.But the house feels wrong. Things go missing, things are moved, a blond is seen rushing past doors, music plays at night, and laughter echos in its halls.They are living with a real life Casper the Friendly Ghost.But there’s something locked in his closed chest of memeories that will break the town.





	1. Oh, Lord, Oh, Lord.

**Author's Note:**

> THE FIRST CHAPTERS ARE TRASH FYI I will re write them. I will try to post at least weekly :)
> 
> Play list for the fic https://open.spotify.com/user/linknicnexus/playlist/48dcQSQz65DSeFIwPC0fwG?si=rIo9g3TSQKqh0FMLMm8EZg

When the group of friends walked in to the house a gust of wind pushed them as they opened the door, as if saying ‘go away’. Yet, the house was incredibly cheap for its size and condition, and a couple of freshman college students would never say no to that deal. 

“I’m telling you guys, I feel like something is watching us.” Aris glancing over his shoulder as Minho and Thomas unscrewed the hinges to make room for the couch to squeeze into the house as he spoke of the house. 

Teresa set down a box, wiping her brow, “Aris, I feel it too, but it doesn’t feel bad, it’s probably just nerves of an old house. Probably the ghost of some old ass man.” Teresa looked up and tried to hid her smirk, from the more fragile guy. 

Fry came rushing in with two boxes of his personal belongings, “I think it’s homey, nice and lived in.” He came back down shortly, “it’s nice, you know. Price, condition, vibes.” 

Aris quirked an eyebrow, “If your definition of good vibes includes feeling like a ghost is going to throw a vase at you, then that’s your thing. Not my definition of good vibes.” 

“Fry,” Minho grunted, “please help with the couch, we can talk about old ghost men later.” 

 

Someone who wasn’t paying rent sat on the kitchen counter and smiled at the scene, maybe he can have some fun with these students. He had been known as a troublemaker as a kid, maybe he still was. This would be fun.

 

It started out with small things, the ghost would open doors that were closed, turn on lights that were off, shift items so it was all just a tad off, hide someone’s toothpaste, turn on someone’s Spotify playlist at 3 am at full volume while connected to a Bluetooth speaker. Small things. Then he started to kick it up a notch, as only Aris and the guy called Frypan believed someone was walking unseen. 

 

He put salt in Minho’s coffee, the jock who honestly would rip anyone who threatened his friends to pieces. 

Minho spat out the coffee, “what the actual fuck?” He turned around to Fry at the counter, “Toby. Why did you put salt in my coffee?” 

Fry pushed a piece of sausage in the pan, “Dude, I have no clue who did it, but unless I’m sleepwalking and awake at the same time, it wasn’t me.” He turned to face Minho, “Maybe it’s the same thing that hid Thomas’ toothpaste?” 

Minho put his head in his hands dramatically, “I honestly have no idea why I have known you guys since childhood and never learned that you believed in ghost. Honestly it’s ridiculous.”

“Mmm, but we’re all ridiculous, Thomas is in love with the mothman.” Fry, smiling at Minho as he spoke, “Teresa thinks the grays are on earth. And don’t come to me saying you didn’t watch ‘America’s Best Kept Secret, Aliens’ like three days ago.” He returned to the sausages, floral apron flapping, “We all have our theories. Aris’ is a spooky ghost that he’s afraid of, and mines a little more like Casper.” Fry paused for a second, letting Minho sigh in the break, “Maybe on movie night we can watch Casper and invite the ghost to watch!” 

“You’re insane Siggy.” The loud jock walked out, whining about having to go with out his daily dose of caffeine. 

 

 

The ghost let his form appear, and he walked past the girl’s room, making sure the wood creaked as he passed. He heard a gasp from the room on the second floor. He smirked, eyes crinkling in delight, and disappeared as the bed creaked from losing its owner. 

 

Of all the tenets, the ghost liked the Aris boy the most. He acts a lot like he did as a youth, closed off but allowing some in. Semipermeable. The kid had good taste in music too. Honestly he didn’t want the Aris guy to be scared of him, but the guy was jumping at every creak and squeak, and was never seen alone in the house. Yet, again, damn good music. 

The ghost sat on the bed as Aris worked on an art project at his desk, the kid hyperfocused on his work and it was honestly endearing. The ghost grabbed a comic from the ground and situated himself, laying on his stomach as soft, sad, love songs played. 

Fry was passing the room as he glanced in, seeing someone he didn’t recognize, probably a friend of Aris’ that he invited for a study session, but Fry couldn’t shake off the feeling of it being just a tad off. The blond on the bed rose his head from the book and looked at Fry in the hall and waved. Fry smiled, shaking the feeling away and waving back. 

 

It was fall break already, and the house was bustling with people going in and out, which meant less pranks and more hiding from all the noise in the attic. 

The ghost was getting anxious, stuck in the attic of his own damn house. 

He phased down the second floor, and let hisself be visible so he could feel normal for a second. He walked into the bathroom, to perhaps mess with the nozzle, who’s door was open a crack, to find a teen with his baby fat slowly fading washing his hands. 

The ghost stopped, who is this? “Uh. Ello. I’m sorry, I thought it was unoccupied.” The ghost rose his hand to the back of his head, sheepishly rubbing it. 

The teen smiled as he was drying his hands, “oh I’m just leaving! Why aren’t you hanging out downstairs?” The boy looked at him, “Everyone ordered some Chinese, but I can give you some of mine.” 

The ghost stammered for an answer, one he didn’t want to freak out this kid, two he couldn’t go downstairs and be a ‘friend’ when only one of the tenets had actually seen his body. “Uh. I live here. Don’t know many of everyone else’s friends though.” He paused, hey, it was the truth, “ And people give me anxiety. But thank you for the offer.” 

The boy nodded in understanding, “oh that’s alright! It was nice to meet you though!” And the boy sidestepped around the ghost and ran to the first floor. Good god, at least that was done. And the ghost faded to nothing again, not attempting to mess with anyone’s stuff until dark.

 

Chuck spoke with a mouth of fried rice, “so who’s the blond, British guy I met upstairs?” 

The entirety of the roommates glanced around and looked back at the boy. Minho spoke up, “unless we have someone squatting in the attic, there’s only us Gladers.” 

Chuck’s face scrunched up, “really?” Whispering, “He said he lives here too.” He looked at the others, hoping someone wasn’t living in the attic while the others paid rent while Teresa gasped. 

“Oh my god. That’s who I saw run past my room!” She glowed with a smile from ear to ear, a few laughs slipping past. 

Aris looked around, excited and scared, “I told you that there was a ghost. You all didn’t believe. Except Siggy,” Fry smiled at the worried boy, “how old was he, was he like eighty, does he look like a murder?” He placed his hands on the table ready to sprint out at moments chance, looking like a frightened kitten. 

Chuck thought for a second. “Hm, no, seems more like he’d work at a library and spend his free time knitting. He looked about 19 to 20. Can’t be sure, lots of baby face going on.” 

Thomas gasped in to his coke, facing Minho, “Bro! He’s the fucker that hid my toothpaste!” The commotion causing coke to spill out from the cup. 

Minho looked over at Thomas, “Bro, he put salt in to my coffee. That little shit!”

The commotion from the host and the guest automatically stopped as a chuckle spread across the room from a voice no one, but Chuck knew. 

Gally, another jock, with angry eyebrows laughed along, “Holy shit, you guys are fucked. You live with Casper the Pranking Ghost.”


	2. Casper the Asshole Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They bring a psychic in, the ghost decides to be an ass to her.

Alby, who had been at the dinner with “Casper the Pranking Ghost”, suggested a medium. “Honestly, I don’t believe in mediums and psychics, but my mom likes them and maybe you can get something out of this.” 

“Thanks bud.” Minho slapped his back as they approached the shop, brick laid out as the Main Street, small shops lining the road, “Do you think it’s the reason the rent was so low?” 

Alby shrugged while opening the door, “If it was recent, totally, if he’s just a nuisance I wouldn’t of expected the price decrease from the surrounding areas.” 

As they stepped in the smell of incense wafted through out the room, and a little lady hobbled from behind a curtain of beads. 

“Alb, she’s got the ‘Let me speak to your manager’ haircut.” Alby, shoved the guy at the whispered comment. 

“What can I do for you lovely gentlemen? You don’t seem like the type to come to a psychic shop.” 

Alby spoke up, “My mom shops here frequently, but for a few months my friends have been dealing with a spirit in their house, we would like to see if you could come to the house to see if you can get him to talk.” He smiled at the woman dressed in black, “All we’ve gotten from him is harmless pranks, music, and laughter.” 

Minho gasped, “Oh! And he spoke to our friend after running into him, tried to make it seem as if he was a roommate with anxiety.” 

The woman rubbed her hands together, “Wow, I’ve never heard of such an active, and peaceful, spirit, even if it’s mischievous. Do you think the spirit could be fae? Sounds like things the fae would do, and that is out of my expertise.” Smiling, but worry in her eyes.

Alby and Minho looked at each other, Minho grumbled, “Even if he is a fairy, we wanna see if you can talk to him.” 

She shook her head lightly, “Alright, but you have no clue what you’re getting into.” 

 

The students walked her up to the door, “Some of my roommates are inside, so I’m just going to ask you, don’t make him angry.”

Minho opened the door, used to the odd gush of wind that occurred every time it was opened, the physic hid her face from the wind and peered between her fingers. The house looked normal, newish, and stable, unlike many well known haunted houses. 

Thomas and Aris day on the couch, Aris reading a textbook and his music playing through the living room, Thomas on his phone, periodically showing Aris a meme or joke. Both looked up at to the psychic, Aris hearing a laugh at his side, as if someone was sitting on the arm rest of the chair. 

 

The woman set candles in a circle, having the boys move the table to the far wall, and had everyone sit outside the circle. 

The woman closed her eyes, “Oh spirit, we invoke you. Please grace us with your presence.” 

A blond male appeared on the couch, relaxed and smirking. He stayed quiet, watching the woman act a fool, as the group was silent, eyes closed. 

“We wish to ask you about yourself. We sit here, asking for a reason you inhabit this house.” 

The ghost coughed, alerting the group to his presence, “God, I’d like to know as well.” He stood up, walking around the circle, watching the heads turn and follow, “Oh, was I supposed to appear in the center? Sorry about that.” 

He stopped next to the lady, squatting down, reaching out to touch her, fear evident in her eyes and leaning away, he pulled back and straightened out. “I do hope you know she’s a fake. And honestly, if you want to talk, you can ask me. No need for such a spectacle.” He turned his head to the guy next to her, Thomas, whose mouth was wide open and wonder shining in his gaze, “And next time you want to talk, don’t try to bloody trap me in salt. It’s annoying.” And he vanished.

“Oh my god.” Minho breathed, “Do you think he’s seen me jerk off?”

 

 

“Um, hi.” Thomas, Minho and Aris sat on Aris’ bed, following Fry’s suggestion, as he had seen the ghost there before. Thomas looked around waiting for… Well, anything. “You said we can ask to talk to you, and here we are. If you’re not available it’s all okay.” The three sitting knee to knee on the edge of the bed. 

From behind them, the center of the bed, “I’m dead, I’m pretty much always available.” The three turned, watching the guy sitting criss cross on the bed, Aris afraid, Minho amused, Thomas awestruck. The guy on the bed had dirty blond hair, cut short and sweeping over, pale skin and dark eyes, 80’s attire, looked generally like a hipster college student. 

After Thomas and Aris both stopped gasping at the fact he was on the bed, very clearly with in reach and not a scary demon, Minho gasped, “Oh my god he actually is Casper. We literally live with Casper the Friendly Ghost.” 

The ghost laughed, “Actually, my name is Newt. I have no clue why you all decided to call me Casper.” 

Aris frowned, “What kind of name is Newt, anyways?” 

The ghost, Newt, leaned back against the wall, “The kind of name you get when you act jittery and anxious. When you act kind of like a small, terrified lizard. Nickname from bullies, but it stuck.” He paused, “I honestly don’t remember my real name, so that would be it.”

Minho leaned in, “Wait, do you even remember your death?” 

Newt’s face flashed with anger, sadness and loss. “No.” And he disappeared, leaving three college students in silence on a twin bed. 

“Bro.” Thomas addressed Minho, “First rule of talking to ghost, don’t ask them about kicking the bucket.” 

 

Everyone had gathered downstairs for movie night, everyone except Minho and Newt that was. 

“Hey, dude. I’m sorry, that was really insensitive of me and, I’m really fucking sorry dude.” Minho looked the case over in his hands, “Well, I just wanted to say, you’re welcome to join us for the movie. We are watching Casper, so maybe you can watch and get why we called you that.” 

Newt walked down the hall, fading into view, “No. I don’t remember why I died. And I guess that’s why I’m still here.” He looked up to Minho from his fringe, “But, I will take you up on that movie.” He smiled and Minho smiled back.

“Aight!” He thumbed up at Newt, “Teresa hasn’t seen you yet so if you wanna stay ghostly and invisible it’s cool, or if you don’t, that’s good too. She’s fine with anything.” And he rushed down the stairs with the dvd in hand. Newt shook his head, laughing to himself, and followed down. 

When he entered the living room Teresa jumped from her seat, “Ghost boy!” She walked over to him, avoiding boys laying on the ground and bowls of popcorn, settling in front of him, “Can I hug you? Or will you phase through?” 

Newt quirked an eyebrow, “You can touch me, same as I can take your things. Just takes a bit of energy, no idea why you would want to thou- oh hello.” The girl had wrapped her arms around him and he patted her back awkwardly. 

Fry laughed, “She does that to everyone she meets as a friend. It’s tradition.” Fry threw a popcorn piece at her, “Get off him, we gotta get the movie started.” 

Newt felt weird, openly being around the living people and settled between Thomas and Fry. “So this is the movie about a ghost boy? And he apparently looks like me?” 

Fry nodded, “Mhm, blond, skinny, pale, brown eyed, only difference is that you’re older.” 

 

“Bloody hell. He does look like me.” And laughter ran through the house, not because it was meant to be creepy, but because it was so loud, from every being in the room.


	3. ‘Cause I’m a little unsteady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panic attacks ensue.

Thomas opened the door, automatically feeling off, there was no gust of wind from the door. Instead, screaming started up. “Newt? Are you in here?” He walked in slowly, setting his bag down at the front door and steadily following the distinct voice down through the halls, leading him to attic. “Newt?”

Pulling down the attic door and unfolding the ladder, he climbed up, the screaming ringing his ears, “No! Leave me alone!” Noises of walls being hit and a body thrashing. Thomas’ head reached the top, he saw the ghost crying, on the far end of the wall, veins prominent against his skin, blood staining above his heart. 

Thomas got steady footing in the attic, which held a few lone boxes and furniture, and walked towards the shivering and wailing man. “Oh my god, Newt, come back to me okay, that isn’t happening anymore.” With an outstretched hand, he walked forward, until his hand touched hair, Newt flinching away, stopping his screaming, but not the sobs, and slipping down the wall to the ground. “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you. Can you focus on me?” He squatted down to get on Newt’s eye level, watching the ghost raise his head and the wild in his eyes fade, fading with the darkness of the veins. “Look at that, you’re coming back.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, no, it’s okay. Hey, I have panic attacks and you’ve probably heard them before.” Thomas smiled and put his hand on the ghost’s knee, happily surprised by the fact that he could feel it, cold, but solid. “Can I, like, give you a hug or something? I usually seek out Fry to get a hug after an episode.” 

Newt nodded, “That… that would be nice.” Thomas moved around, pulling Newt into an embrace, patting his back, wondering if it would be okay to pet his hair, it helps him, so why not. He slid his hand into Newt’s hair, him humming in response and relaxing. “Thank you, Tommy.” 

Thomas grinned, “Mm, Tommy? That’s new.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I-“ 

Thomas laughed and pulled the struggling ghost further in, “No, it’s nice!” His laughter shaking the ghost, “I like it.” The two broke apart, “Though, I do believe you don’t know our real names.” 

Newt tilted his head to the side, “Uh, no.” Thomas inwardly danced as he was distracting Newt from the ghost version of a panic attack, “I know that Fry has at least five names, but I didn’t know about anyone else having more than one.” 

Thomas glowed with his grin, “We all grew up together, and as kids, we were in, uh, sixth grade, started learning about the famous scientist. Toby, Fry, had the idea to give each other nicknames after those scientist.” He waved his hand to gesture to himself, “I am named after Thomas Edison. Aris after Aristotle. Siggy, Toby, Fry, whatever, is named after Sigmund Freud.” 

“The parents and sex psychologist?” 

“Yeah, it was like a joke in a joke, because he’s asexual.” 

“Wait. What is that? Isn’t that what sponges do?” 

“God, I forget you’re from the 80’s. It means he doesn’t find people sexually attractive. But there’s Chuck, after Charles Darwin. Gally, He was at the dinner where Chuck saw you, after Galileo Galilei. Alby after-“ 

“Albert Einstein.” Newt smirked up at Thomas, then confusion replacing it quickly, “What about Teresa? Or Minho?” 

“Ah, Teresa was the reason we changed our names, she just hated her first name, it was Deedee, and then felt weird because no one else had nicknames, so Minho started to use his middle name, and the rest followed, but with a theme.” Thomas relaxed on his heels, “Of course Toby’s birth name is Toby, my name is Stephen, Aris’ is Noah, Minho’s is Dae. We don’t mind our first names, besides Teresa, we just use the nicknames around each other.” Thomas shrugged, “It’s kinda just a habit.”

“That’s really cool.” Newt stood up, holding his hand out to help Thomas up, “I don’t quite know if I had friends growing up, but that seems like it would of been nice. All your friends joining together to make you feel comfortable.” His eyebrows furrowed, “Mm, talking of them, someone entered the house.” 

Thomas took his hand and stood up, “It is nice,” he pulled out his phone, “It’s Min, he wants to go get some pizza for dinner. You good if I leave?”

Newt felt a twinge of ...something, and nodded, releasing his grip on Thomas, “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be fine.” Thomas gave him a thumbs up and walked to the attic door.

“The fuck Tomboy. Why are you in the attic?” Minho’s voice drifted up to the room, and Newt chuckled in his palm, “God, you’re gonna get an allergy attack up there.” 

“Min, I’m fine, just talking to Newt for a bit.” Thomas started down the stairs, Minho mumbling about something containing the words ‘you useless gay’ and ‘ghost crush’ and ‘your name Kat?’ And Newt swore it he could blush, he would. Wait, could he appear to blush? Ah he didn’t bloody know. 

Thomas stopped going down and climbed back up a few steps, “Do you remember what happened during the attack?” 

Newt’s mind drew up a blank, “Uh, no. I just remember crying and screaming. That’s all I remember, happens every once and a while, I have no idea what goes on or why.” He shrugged and watched Thomas’ face scrunch up. 

“‘Kay, see ya after we get pizza.”

 

As they were gone, Teresa came in. Newt, in all honesty, like Teresa. She was kind and seeing- and feeling- a girl hug him, a ghost, the first time she sees him was surprising and nice. 

She ran in the down stairs, “Hey, Newty! My friend heard that you exist here and recommended me a song for you since you like Aris’ songs so much. I don’t think he has it on your playlist, it’s called Ghosting.” She ran into her room, the master bed, and set up the speakers, “You in here, Casper?” 

A sigh echoed in the room, “Yeah. I’m not visible right now, because I’m tired. Moved stuff around and … stuff.” 

Teresa smiled, “Aight! So I haven’t heard it, so if it’s shit, not my fault.” She pressed play and let soft stringed instruments fill the air, giggling at the singular thumb floating in air, the ghost’s approval.

Within the first lines, Newt felt sadness creep into his body. Teresa didn’t notice the vibe of the, quite literally, haunting song. Yet, even feeling the icy cold of the truth of the words and seeing Teresa freeze up at the meaning of the words, he listened to the end. “Newt. I’m sorry. I didn’t know the song.”

“It’s fine.” He bit out, truly, it wasn’t her fault, but the song pressed on his buttons, ones yelling at him, screaming a burning question. Why haven’t you moved on. 

Teresa went to where she remembered the thumb hovering, “God, I should of known it would’ve been shitty.” Rubbing her forehead, “My step brother suggested it, he’s an asshole.”

Newt appeared for a few moments, “Yeah, he is. But it’s okay.” Teresa was right in front of him, seeing the eyes reddened by tears and tear tracks from now and earlier. He smiled at her worried creases in her face, “I’m fine Ter, today has been rough. The others are outside, need help with bringing in drinks.” And he faded away. 

 

Teresa set the sodas on the island, sitting next to Aris and watching Thomas and Minho pull the pizza out of the boxes and on plates, “So I made the ghost cry.” 

Thomas’ and Minho’s heads shot up, Thomas’ face in shock, “God damnit, Teresa. I had just gotten him out of a panic attack, or memory, whatever it was.”

“Technically it was Jan, he pulled a stupid move and hurt Newt in the proces-“ Another scream pressing through the house, but quick and shrill.

Collectively they all said curses, from fuck, shit, to other languages, and ran up stairs.


	4. Fuck, it’s You I Hate the Most

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unleash the floodgates, baby.

Newt thought as Teresa left. He thought of why he couldn’t remember, he thought of waking as a ghost, he thought of the girl who visited the house, who cried as she walked through the halls, he thought of how old she must be, he thought of her cursing a person? A group? A name flashing in Newt’s mind. An acronym. W.I.C.K.E.D. And he screamed. 

He remembered.

He remembered everything. 

 

He saw his sister, and snow, he saw his mum, and dad. He saw a woman in white, and men in black. He saw the moving van, and the town, the town that was an experiment. His family was given a ton of money to live in the town and be subjects, more than enough incentive for the immigrants. At first it was nice, a quaint town. Only thing different from his home was the strange government people always around. They still went to school and did kid things, his dad had a new job, working in the town. His mum was a stay at home mum, not unusual for a married woman. His sister got a boyfriend in her fifth grade, and he threatened to cut off his dick if the boy had ever, in any way, hurt his little sister. He retained the accent his mum and dad had, while his sister chose to fit in more seamlessly, by the time her voice fit in, the only thing to tell that they were siblings was the matching blond hair and similar face shape. 

The world changed in his senior year of high school. People had started to get sick. More government people came around. The desert surrounding the town felt wrong. The radios would play Russian music, when what should’ve been on was the news. Than people started to go missing, First the elderly, then the young adults. Weird lights showed up in the sky, blinding at some moments and subtle at others. Something walked the town at night, and no one dared to encounter it. At school rumors flew of a shadow monster creeping in nightly from the desert. 

Sam remembered the day that sealed his fate. 

Government officials showed up at his door, he had a half day due to his credits for graduation being almost fulfilled, and his mum was out shopping. 

“Ah, Samuel Whitman. You can probably guess why we are here.” A woman in white stood in his doorway, and all he wanted to do was push her out and away. 

“You’re here to take me to the lab.” He spat out the words, as if they were venom from a rattlers bite.

“Yes. Well, we’re here to offer you an opportunity, come and run some test, and we pay for your full college life. And your sister’s.” Somehow the woman knew that the money wouldn’t be enough to support two college tuitions and two middle aged adults. Sam would give the world so his sister could be successful. 

“Alright.” The woman seemed so shocked that he agreed with the conditions, was expecting to be in the house before he would say yes. He would be a fine specimen indeed. 

She looked around, “Well, get some stuff packed up and we will drive you to the lab. You’ll be living there for quite some time.” 

Sam paused, “Wait. Can’t I say goodbye to my family?” 

The woman smiled, trying to mimic a warm smile, but showing one of annoyance. “Write a letter, then we can let them see you once you settle in. Now, chop chop, get your things.” 

 

When Sam’s mum entered the house, all that was left of her son was a note and his items in his room, the note saying “They got here. They're taking me to live in the lab. It's for the best. I love you. See you soon.”

 

They had tested him mentally for weeks and he was tired after every session. Most of the missing people were in the building. Psychologist had said he had untreated depression and anxiety. That was one of the only things that came out of these people’s mouths that made sense. His anxious habits earned him a nickname with the guards, Newt. At first they tried to call him Liz, for lizard, until he threatened them with a spoon to gouge out their eyes. He was sedated, but they quickly changed to Newt. 

 

After a year of living in the Lab and never seeing his family, he became erratic. During a yelling fit he was injected with something that wasn’t a sedative. He was placed in solitary confinement and slowly became angrier. He had always been grumpy, and irritated after coming to live in the Lab, but now he had become volatile at moments. 

During one of these moments, he escaped. He ran home. 

Entering his house, empty but still lived in, he ran up stairs to his own room, falling on the dusty bed and crying. He had missed his home so much. He turned his head to a clock, head foggy with anger, sadness, and excruciating pain sliding across his body, no wonder it was empty. It was 12:37 on a Sunday. His family was at church. He got up and stumbled, leaning against the wall as he inched to the bathroom, feeling the need to view himself in his own house again. The view he got was of a young man, with red tinged eyes, dark circles and darkened veins. He screamed and punched the mirror, anger filling his soul and he slowly unraveled. 

He dragged himself to the attic, fighting the pain surging in every limb, falling from the ladder and landing on his right leg, a cry ripping through his chest, but he collected himself, sobbing and yelling curses to W.I.C.K.E.D., and pulled himself up the ladder. He collapsed in the attic, and cried, thoughts of killing the Chancellor and all her goonies sped through his head and he knew he was done. That nothing could be done for him. He curled up into a ball, cradling his leg, the pain being the only thing keeping him in the present, from keeping him from going completely insane. 

A door opened. “Shit! I can’t believe I left it here! Mom is so pissed.” A girl yelled through the house, seemingly to herself, and the stomping from the girl stopped. “Is someone here?” The girl had found the open attic, and ran back stairs, A5, Wait no, his name is Ne..wt. No, no, No! That’s not his name! Sam. Sam was so proud as he heard her rummage through the kitchen, she wasn’t exactly quiet, but she was defending herself from the intruder. 

Sam’s brain faded out as until he saw her head popover the hole for the door. “Sam? Oh my god. Sam.” She ran to the broken boy, knife in her hand, and he reached out, to her, palm out as if saying stop. 

“Hey. Lizzy.” Breaths between every word. He tried to smile at her, it probably looked insane. 

The girl, no the young woman, gasped, “Did.. did W.I.C.K.E.D. do this to you?” Dropping the knife down as she kneeled before the sick brother. 

He nodded, “Yeah. Liz. Get mum and dad. Please.” He eyed the knife, the pain in his leg slowly becoming not enough to stay lucid. 

Lizzy’s heart dropped. “But bubba…” Her eyes searching him, searching for a way out. 

“Please, Lizzy. Please, I won’t last long. No one has, I want to see them.” And she nodded. “I love you, Liz.”

“I love you too, Sam.”

She turned and ran. 

Sam smiled, grabbed for the knife and before he could lose himself fully, he did what was for the best. He died lying in a room he remembered using for hide and seek, in a room he had his first kiss in, in a room he remembered crying in many times. It might of been an attic, but it was a safe place. He died with a smile on his lips and eyes shut. 

 

 

Newt opened his eyes and found himself in the attic, surrounded by breathing people. He sat up, looking at those around him not knowing where to look, waiting for him to be visible. 

He whispered, against the wall, where he had panicked, where he had died. “My name is Samuel.” 

And the living turned to him, Teresa and Thomas with matching tears, and grabbed him, his instinct to go solid almost not happening, until he could feel warmth, of four bodies pressed against him. He felt tears on his cheeks and noticed they were his own. 

Thomas petting his hair and shushing him, “It’s okay now, Sammy.”


	5. This ride is a journey to The secret inside of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonya enters the scene, and she won’t let go of the anger in her soul.

Newt relayed the story, explaining what he had experienced in the 80’s, and why he had automatically moved from the attic to Aris’ room. That was his room once, around forty years ago, it allowed him to feel safe. He looked around at everyone, Fry had joined them, coming after a text announcing an emergency, “This town is fucked to hell and no one knows.”

“I guess the government covered up the experimentation with the college, probably paid off anyone still alive with shush money, and everyone else is presumably dead.” Teresa looked at a map of the town on her phone, “Weird shit happens in the desert, and everyone calls us loonies. But the desert is a perfect place to study.” She compared maps of the towns construction, one that Newt drew out from memory, and a current one. The construction and the one Newt drew, we’re almost exactly the same, making sense with the time period between the two. The current one was similar to the two, but things were slightly off, new buildings, old ones torn down and bigger ones above. The place labeled as W.I.C.K.E.D. on two maps was now a pharmaceutical company, Phlar Pharmacy. Teresa turned her phone screen to Newt, “That’s where W.I.C.K.E.D. was, they researched a virus, at least on you, and now there’s a pharmaceutical place. I think that’s a little fishy.”

Newt looked it over, nodding slowly, “It’s fishy alright. The name sounds familiar, but I’m not one hundred percent sure why.” He touched the screen of the phone, slightly bewildered at the technology, “Means they aren’t gone, if we’re right, and that they could be using the college to drag more people in with their experiments.”

He looked to all of them, “I know things now, maybe exposing them will let me pass.” He paused, sighing and leaning away from the maps, “But this isn’t all about me, this is about anyone else they tested on, and who ever they decide to next. So no matter what happens to whatever I am, you all need to transfer out of this town and release what happened here to the public.” 

Minho looked to Thomas, watching the recognition splash across his face. He felt bad for his bro, but, the guy was asking for it when he got a crush on the weird ghost in the attic. 

 

A woman in a Jeep pulled up to the small college, putting her forehead up against the wheel, listening to the ringing of her phone. Glancing over at the phone, she sighed and picked it up. 

“‘Ello, this is Sonya Whitman, Professor of folklore and histories at Para College. If this is Jack, I will have a restraining order put on you.” A soft and filtered accent of British mixing wildly with Southern American. 

“Uh, hello, I’m a student at Para, my name is Teresa Agnes, as professor of folklore you know about local stuff right?” A southern girl spoke through. 

Sonya’s interest was peaked, no one actually asked about the area, as if it was washed away with the blood on the scrubs. And she had first hand experience of that blood. 

“Yes, I also grew up here, so I pride myself in my knowledge of the local areas.” She sat up, pulling a notebook from her bag, “I can write down what you want to know and give you sources. I know from the Native’s first steps on this land, to now, so what do you need?” 

“Uh.” She could hear chattering I’m the other end, “Sh guys. She grew up here, maybe she wasn’t bribed.”

Sonya gasped. She was, but that didn’t stop her from coming back and learning all she could about the corporation that took her brother. Drug dealer my ass. “Hun, are you referring to the 80’s?” 

Hushed whispers of oh my god, and jackpot flustered over the radio waves, “Yes, ma’am. You see, we-“

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” she interrupted the girl, “Can’t speak on the phone, how ‘bout you stop by my office and we can set up an appointment. And then we can talk folklore. I’m open from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m.”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah.” Sonya smiled, the girl seemed to get the necessity for getting off the phone, “I will come in today.”

“I’ll see you then, … Teresa.” The woman smiled as she hung up, she could maybe gain some more information about her brother.

 

The two met up and Teresa quickly gave her a note with an address, saying she’d have to see it for herself to understand the gravity of the situation, and after locking up she went there, knowing some of the house mates would be there. 

She pulled out the address as she entered the parking lot, the first time she truly read it. It was her old home. A sob racked up her body, unsure if she could go through with the plan, but the girl was so relieved. She had to go home.

 

She pulled up to her old home, walking to the door, eyeing the fading paint and wild garden. As she reached the door, it swung open, a young man with brown hair and freckles, smiling. “Hello, Professor Whitman, Welcome to our house.” 

He was so warm, and the house felt warm along with him, she smiled to him, face wrinkling with age around her smile lines, “Hello.” She stepped in, smelling the cookies in the oven and the warmth heating the house. “You know, it’s funny, I once lived here. Didn’t notice where I was going until I was in the parking lot-.” She turned to the stairway, seeing a young man, blond hair and surprised face. They would have looked like twins if it wasn’t for the age gap. “Sam? Oh my god.” 

The young man disappeared and she felt pain seap every pore until he appeared in front of her, she could feel him hugging her, she felt the tears sliding down her cheeks as she returned the hug. 

“You’re a professor. I’m so proud of you, Lizzy.” A raspy voice lifted from the boy, she held him tighter, feeling cold wetness on her shoulder, contrasting the warm tears she shed. 

She chuckled a little, pulling back so they still held each other, but they could see each other, “You’re an asshole, you know.” She wiped the tears off of her cheeks, “Forty years, forty goddamn years I spent trying to figure out what happened, and you were always here.”

“‘M Sorry, I didn’t remember who you were back then.” She watched her big brother’s face contort to sorrow, and she smiled to him, everything was okay, it was okay, they can find out what to do. 

“It’s fine, Sam, just tell me what happened. They said you were addicted to drugs so they took you to the lab to recover. But then you care back.” She watched his young face, pushing the wave of anger down that he never got to meet her son, he never went to college like they planed, never got to marry. They pulled away and Sam walked her toward the couch, the warm boy handing her a mug of tea.

“It’s a long story.” 

“I can repay you with my long story.”

Sam laughed, god, Liz missed that laugh, it’d been over forty years since she had heard it, ringing through the familiar house. She felt fifteen again.

 

“So they tried to call you Liz, so you threatened to gouge out their eyes?” 

“I was nineteen and pissed off.” 

He explained the choice to go, or rather lack of choice, and the injection that lead to his downfall. Skipping the attic, and going to the forgetting. How he saw her years after the fact, watched her walk to every room, except the attic. Heard her cry, but having no idea who or why. Thomas, the warm boy, explained how Sam, or well, Newt, started to play tricks on the house mates. That was how he got here, by being a ghost and finally making friends. 

“So your story?” Newt patted her leg, as he looked to her through his fringe. “I see you have the accent back.” He grinned. She grinned back.

 

She told him how every year on his death day, she would visit the house they had left after finding his body, how she did this until she was married. How her name was changed as she left the town, to protect her from it. She told of her son, Nicholas Samuel Ezran, how she fought her now ex-husband to get the name in. How she left him after her son was off to college, how he lives in England with his boyfriend. How said ex-husband was a utter cunt and how she held her son as he told her that he needed help, he felt like he was drowning, and she remembered another boy and how he seemed to drown in his thoughts. She was the one to take him to therapy, because she remembered the signs. How she came back to learn the truth of what happened in her childhood, of the town that seemed to be on another plane of existence. How she was surprised it had a local college. How Phlar was too similar to the original W.I.C.K.E.D. that it frightened her. 

“So, something is up. With the virus you got and the pharmaceutical company, and-“ 

“The virus had a name. Flare.” He looked around, gagging if anyone had noticed the coincidence. 

Teresa, she had comedown after the initial reunion hug, gasped loudly. 

Aris crossed his arms, “So, how we gonna take these people down, because thanks, but I’d rather not be experimented on.”

Sonya pondered, she thought of those who were waiting to strike. “The sheriff, Vince.”


End file.
